Puzzle-box Mansion
by Twilight Joltik
Summary: Whenever new people arrive at the mysterious realm known as the "Smash Mansion", they have no recollection of their past, save for a short summary of their previous life. Some believe the place is an inescapable trap they must live with, while other believe it is a puzzle they can solve. Shulk, one of the latest "victims", is one of the latter. Discontinued, sorry.
1. Memory

_**AN- Well, I had an idea, and as we all know, that can never end well. Actually, I had three ideas, which I can't decide between. So, I'm posting the first chapters of each of these hypothetical new stories to see which one you lovely readers like best. If you like this one, go vote for it on my profile page to tell me I need to make it into a full-fledged story. Feel free to check out my other two options, Ivy's Flower and Sweet Smash Flats as well, just in case you end up liking one of those more than this. Something that is both a slice of life and a dark mystery. Well, if it stars Shulk, the only thing I can be sure of it that this will not be a fun time for the poor guy, as I am always awful to him without fail. So, just remember: I only own my own ideas here, and if they're terrible, vote for something else. Thank you and enjoy. -Twilight Joltik**_

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_Puzzle-box Mansion_

_Chapter One- Memory_

A boy was sprawled across some cold surface. This was the only thing he knew. No, not quite. If he tried, he could recall his name, right? He searched his brain. Something that started with an S, maybe? It was a weird name, certainly not one he'd really call a "name", exactly. Oh, what was it, S-Sh… Shulk, that was it! His name was Shulk!

Well, that was somewhere to start, he thought. Shulk, that was his name, as odd as it was, but who was he? Where had he been before… falling asleep? Being knocked unconscious? How had he gotten wherever he was, anyways? Oh, come on, he pleaded with his empty brain, surely you aren't completely useless.

Something came up. Not a memory, no, but a block of words. They seemed more like someone's explanation of him, not his own words. Some of them seemed to be missing, but it was a start:

_In XXXXXX, this young lad's colony is attacked by the Mechon, so he and his friends set off to take them down. In XXXXXXX, his Monado Arts let him change his specialization during XXXX. XXX can choose to boost a stat-XXX jump or attack, for example-but other stats will drop as a result, so choose wisely._

What did any of those things mean, Shulk wondered. What was a Mechon, or a Monado Art? They seemed like some sort of being and skill, respectively, but there was no elaboration. And his friends-? He couldn't remember any of them. Not a name, not a face, nothing. But, at least that meant he had people he knew. Perhaps they were waiting on him, or even with him. They'd be worried to find he couldn't recall anything, wouldn't they?

Could he open his eyes? Maybe that would help. If he saw something familiar, perhaps that would give him a clue of what exactly he was supposed to be.

With a snap, hazy darkness gave way to more hazy darkness. Well, not entirely dark. There seemed to be some light coming in from somewhere, enough to hazily see the dull white color of the ceiling, and hear the echoing beating of a ceiling fan casting a shadow on it. Alright, he was indoors. That was a start, at least. If he was indoors, then he must have been lying on the floor. Why had he been lying on the floor? Had he been injured? No, he felt no pain in his body. Perhaps that was just an odd habit of his. No, that didn't feel like the case. It was rather uncomfortable, and he couldn't really imagine himself voluntarily doing such a thing.

That was about all he could glean from lying down, so he attempted to push himself up. Sitting proved to be a bit taxing, but not in a way that implied he had been somehow injured, but more in the way it feels odd to move after being in an awkward position for a very long time. How long had he been there, anyways? Sitting up, he could see the room was fairly empty, and a window on his left showed the early morning sky. Perhaps he'd been laying there all night, or even longer.

Was he positive he couldn't remember anything else? He cast another glance around the room, his eyes falling on an odd red object on the floor, a bit to his right. He felt he should recognize it, but couldn't find a name for it. Should he reach for it? Shulk found his fingers closing around its narrow handle before he could even process the thought. It was a cold metal, despite its bright color. What was this? It began to whirr to life with a cyan glow and a hole in its base began to shine brightly. He felt some flash of something- had he blacked out?- and realized it had extended a blue blade of light from its tip.

"This is a sword," he found himself muttering, almost subconsciously. His voice sounded odd, not at all what he'd expected. Not even his own voice had remained in his memory? Whatever had stripped him of all of his knowledge, they had done a good job. If he were to see his reflection, he was sure he wouldn't recognize it either.

That got him curious. With his free hand, he reached to his head and tried to pull his hair to where he could see it. It was a very pale blond, with thin, wispy strands. He didn't feel any recognition from knowing that, either. Perhaps if he could find a mirror- no, he could probably see his reflection in the windowpane.

He shakily got to his feet, feeling a bit lightheaded from it. A few steps took him to the windowpane, to a faint reflection of a blond-haired boy with odd clothing and dull blue eyes. He didn't look the slightest bit familiar to himself, making him wonder why the sword had stirred up something more resembling memory than his own image. Nothing in his appearance looked familiar. He might as well have been staring at someone he'd never met's portrait for all he recognized himself.

The breeze from the fan sent a shiver through him. Between the cool of the glass and the fan, he was freezing cold. No, that wasn't right. He just felt uncomfortable, not cold. The only chill was that of his lack of memory, the room was perfectly temperate.

It then occurred to Shulk that perhaps he might figure out something more if he were to leave the room. With a few uncertain steps, he found his way to the door of the room and turned the doorknob to pull it open. The light from the adjacent hallway nearly blinded him, and he knew a small groan escaped his lips as it hit his eyes. The hallway was long, to the point where he couldn't make out the end of it, and lined with doors on either side.

A few more steps, and he found himself halted by the creaking of another door. It startled him to the point where he was sure he flinched, but no one emerged from the door for a good thirty seconds. He thought he heard some whispers from the ajar door, but couldn't be sure.

After a moment, someone emerged from the door. A young man with pointed blue eyes and hair of the same shade lightly stepped across the hall. The odd cape he was wearing scrapped across the floor as he approached Shulk with an odd frown on his face, some gold circlet glinting on his head.

"Oh, hello," he stated very cordially. "We were expecting someone new to show up soon. What is your name, newcomer?"

"Sh-Shulk," he forced out. "Er, what is this place, what do you mean?"

The young man gave a small sigh. "I am truly sorry you have found yourself here," he almost whispered. "This is the place known as the Smash Mansion, an odd realm where people with hardly a speck of memory find themselves without any means of escape."

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_**AN- Well, this seems familiar. This is a rewrite of a story I wrote a while back called The Mansion Enigma, which starred Marth. I killed it because I sort of gave a role to Lucas that would have been perfect for Robin about three days before his reveal, causing me to ragequit. It'll probably be a lot different from that one, though. If you liked it and want to see it expanded into a full story, go vote for this on my profile, because any more than three stories at a time would be stupid. Heck, more than two stories at a time is stupid, but I'm just filled with overconfidence. Well, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik**_


	2. Grace

_Puzzle-box Mansion_

_Chapter Two- Grace_

The words he said took a brief moment for Shulk to register the meaning of, and even then he had to decode them with questions. "You're saying this is… normal?"

"For this place, I suppose," he replied, an almost condescendingly sweet smile appearing on his face. "I do not know any more about you, beyond what you know, nor do I know why you are here."

Surely that wasn't all the information available on the situation. "Why can't I remember anything about myself before this?" Shulk questioned in a voice that was still unfamiliar to him. "Who else is here, would someone know more about me? What is this place, is there a way to regain my memory?"

A shake of the head, accompanied by another saccharine smile answered him. "I have been here for a very long time, and yet I cannot answer your questions properly. None of us know why our memories were taken, or why we were placed here," he admitted. "We most certainly have no clue what this mansion is, but I believe I should show it to you. And perhaps you will be lucky enough to encounter someone who knew you in your world, but it is doubtful they would remember knowing you with any more clarity than you can remember knowing yourself."

All of his explanation could have been easily summed up in three words: "I don't know", but Shulk felt pointing that out would have been rude. Instead, he held his tongue as the blue-haired boy grabbed him by the wrist. "Would you mind if I showed you this place a bit?", he asked in the same, condescending tone.

"Sure," he answered, and the boy let go of his hand, striding forward with very precise steps. Something of his mannerisms reminded him of a dancer, but somehow that didn't seem right. No, the gold circlet glinting on his head told him the correct answer, and he felt an embarrassed flush burn his cheeks. "Thank you, y-your highness," he stuttered out, as the shameful feeling he had been a bit rude encroached upon him.

The royal looked back at him with a look of slight surprise. "Please, just call me Marth," he requested. "I hardly see how titles granted to me in a previous life apply in this place."

Marth, Shulk, neither was at all what he might call a "name", but they hardly seemed alike, even if he had never heard either before. Marth had an odd grace to it, just like its bearer, like a flower or star, while Shulk seemed a bit clunky and more practical, perhaps like the name of a mineral. Another few steps forward for the pair, down a never-ending hall that took a sharp turn to the left after what seemed like miles. He still felt a bit shaky walking, and started to wonder if perhaps he had not been injured, but rather ill.

As they approached the turn, Shulk slowed, and came to a halt before a great mirror that served as a wall ending the hallway. His image was sharper here than it had been in the glass, and he could more easily make out finer details of his appearance. For instance, the sleeves of his charcoal undershirt were laced with purple and red designs, and the shorts he was wearing had odd, arcing patterns of their own. He could more easily see now that it was unlikely he had been ill, though. His eyes lacked dark circles under them, and there was no odd lack of color in his face. Of course, with nothing to compare it to, perhaps he was paler than usual, but he truly did not know.

An odd question occurred to him as he pried himself away from his reflection and sprinted a few steps to catch up with the royal: how would he have known that he would have looked pale and dark-eyed if he had been sick? And furthermore, how did he know any of the knowledge he had retained, despite losing even his own self-awareness. With a voice permeated by the gasps for breath the running had left him with, he posed this question to Marth. His answer, once more, could have easily been summed up with the same three words, and yet he did not act as if his answer was insufficient.

The two walked down another hall lined with endless doors, but this time, Marth began to speak as they passed the monotonous sections. "Many of these rooms are nearly empty," he told, not even casting a small glance back at him. "There are approximately one-thousand, eight-hundred and twelve rooms in this mansion, in fact, and that number has been checked by many of us. Still, if somehow all those rooms were to not be enough, we are sure more would appear. There is also a library, a kitchen, a garden, and other more specialized rooms, but the vast majority of them simply have a bit of furniture in them. I would recommend choosing a room to be your own that is near the other inhabited rooms, but if you aren't one for noise, perhaps not too close."

It seemed to be almost a robotic recitation of information he had shared many times before. However, an odd question occurred to him, and one he somehow felt odd asking. "Why would I stay here?", Shulk questioned. "Surely the people who knew me before I lost my memory are worried about me, and I should find them, right?"

Though he could not see it, Shulk knew Marth was wearing the same condescending smile he had when first speaking to him. "I would like to show you something," he almost whispered. "Please, follow me as best you can."

He sped up, and Shulk struggled to follow. He hardly knew how that had answered his question, but the lump forming in his throat told him the answer wouldn't be straightforward. Gasping for breath with every turn, he followed Marth's graceful steps through an odd sequence. Left, right, right, straight, left, left; he mentally recorded the turns so he could follow it back to the start of this odd dance.

The last turn placed them in a very short hall that led to a grand foyer, with two staircases splitting from the path and curving down to a grand set of doors that could only be the main entrance. There was an odd beauty about this place, with its cold white floors reflecting the daylight filtering out of cracks between the doors, and Shulk was reminded that he'd heard the place be called a mansion. This, not the endless hallways, was what gave this name validity.

Marth stepped carefully down one side's stairwell and before Shulk could even followed him, swung open the front doors in a grand motion. He found himself following down to peer through them, but not to step outside. No, rather he couldn't quite believe what he could barely see from the top level and wanted to confirm the vision of madness.

Beyond the doors lay a vast sky of splattered red, violets, and blues against a pitch black void. No ground or sun was in sight, only a bright cross-shaped burst of white that must have been what he had earlier thought to be the morning sun. The outside he had seen beyond his reflection in the window, had he imagined that, or had it been a trick of the odd light?

"This is why we cannot leave," Marth explained in his almost painful to hear tone. "There is simply no world for us to leave to. I am truly sorry to have to tell you such things, but it is better you know what your life is up front than sugarcoating it."

Shulk gave a nod, not because he understood what he saw, but what he heard. Outside was still an incomprehensible mess, but at least he was not given any false hope. "Anything else you need to show me?", he asked the royal.

An odd chuckle came from Marth. "Perhaps I should not be the one to explain everything to you," he mused "No, I think it would do you some good to meet the others now."

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_**AN- Even though the polls indicated that this isn't the story people wanted me to write, it was still the one I enjoyed writing the most, so it will most likely be the one I continue. Besides, MahNati is reading, and that's an honor enough to warrant continuation. Er, thank you to everyone who followed, favorite, and reviewed. It really means a lot to me to know people are reading this. Sorry, another short chapter, but I sort of want to try to see if shorter chapters will work for this story. So, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik**_


	3. Façade

_Puzzle-box Mansion_

_Chapter Three- Façade_

With a flowing series of steps, Marth seemed to begin the same routine that had brought the pair to the foyer in reverse. Vaguely, Shulk recalled the royal whispering something to someone before he had introduced himself, was that the person he was going to meet? He had said "others", in the plural, so perhaps the area he had awoken in had been the residential area Marth had mentioned?

Another question rose as he followed the quick steps through the hall, which he called out, expecting another answer that amounted to nothing. "By the way, how did you know I would be in that room? You mentioned expecting someone to be there, but why?"

A backwards tilt of the head and an actually valid answer came from Marth. "Simple: we have had an influx of newcomers in recent times, and it had been an unusually long time since the last two came. That room is simply where each new person seems to appear whenever they arrive. I suppose it is the best place for it, as seeing the gardens outside rather than the void makes for a much more pleasant easing into this madness."

"So that's what I saw," he found himself muttering aloud. "But then why-" He cut himself off with the sudden realization that he had placed a hand on his chin without his noticing, almost habitually. So he had habits, but not a mental image of himself? Odd.

He hadn't expected Marth to hear his musings, so it came as a surprise when he questioned "'Why' what? What question were you meaning to ask."

What had he been thinking of before becoming distracted? It took him a moment to recall it. "Oh, yes. Why did I see the sky if I was simply seeing the garden?"

It was dismissed as a simple trick of the light, and Shulk began to wonder if interrogating the royal was an exercise in futility. The endless halls filled with silence until they arrived at a section with a mirror on one end and a door on the other. It was somehow comforting to see this place once more, in an odd way. It was familiar, at least, as was the door Marth pulled open and beckoned him through.

On the other side of the doorway sat a small room, one that looked more like a campground than a place where someone lived. The figures asleep in tangled blankets and pillows were quickly roused by Marth's call of "Please, the newcomer has arrived, and it would be very kind of you all to at least make an attempt to be conscious enough to greet him!".

A young woman with dark blue hair jolted upright immediately. "I was not asleep, milord!", she exclaimed all too eagerly. Marth let out a small sigh as she stood up so quickly that she had to struggle to hide her dizziness, even if she couldn't be stopped from stumbling over her steps as she prodded someone to her left with her foot. Standing up, an uncanny resemblance to the royal became clear. Her clothing and even her features resembled his greatly, though it was a bit too early to tell if she shared his grace.

The person she was prodding took a moment to react, but let out a groan after a moment. "Palutena, just five more minutes," muttered a muffled voice.

"Please forgive me for this." The young woman pulled the person's blanket away, eliciting a small shriek.

The boy stood up very quickly with a shout of "Hey, what was that for?", white wings flaring out behind him that unfurled to punctuate his words. Perhaps he should have found it odd that an angel was standing in front of him, but compared to the others things he had seen that day, the chestnut-haired, blue-eyed boy seemed fairly mundane. Was this place starting to desensitize him to the strangeness of it already?

Another small groan came from the other side of the room, and a white-haired young man sat up, blinking slowly. "Pit, it's too early for shouting," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes before they did a quick scanning of the room and met Shulk's. The tired brown gaze quickly turned intense, and an odd smile appeared. "Well, I guess I was wrong then," he remarked. "Marth didn't drag us all in here for nothing."

A small gasp came from the blue-haired girl. "I'm so sorry!", she exclaimed, turning to Shulk and giving an apologetic bow. "I didn't mean to forget about you. My name is Lucina. It's very nice to meet you."

She extended a hand, which Shulk almost instinctively shook, leaving him wondering how he would have known to do that. "It's fine!", he assured her. "It's nice to meet you as well. My name's Shulk."

"And I'm Pit!", the angel blurted out, almost pushing Lucina out of the way. "Wow, that sword thing is really cool! But like, what's the deal with the hole in it?"

Somehow, he'd completely forgotten he was still holding that odd object he'd woken up alongside. "Oh, er, I- I really don't know," he admitted, somehow feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Well, considering its design, it's unlikely it is for aesthetic purposes, and the glare tells there are several layers of glass plugging it up, so it can't be for balancing or aerodynamics, so it must have some sort of purpose," mused the white-haired man, who seemed to very suddenly realize he was speaking out loud from the odd look Pit cast him. "Sorry, just sort of rambling here. The name's Robin, by the way."

Robin, it was a fairly unremarkable name, and hardly seemed to fit its owner's attitude. He somehow got the feeling that his ramblings were more meant to sound impressive than get a point across, and the feeling his smirk and the light of laughter in his eyes weren't entirely genuine refused to leave his head. Before he could think on this any further, Marth let out a sharp sigh behind him, and took a few steps towards where Robin was sitting, to another heap of blankets. A few steps of his own, and Shulk could see it was a man with dark blue hair of a brighter shade than Lucina's.

It was very hard not to laugh when Marth very suddenly and violently hit the sleeping figure with a pillow from a pallet beside him. "Ike, I told you not to go back to sleep!", he exclaimed as the man came to. His sudden change of cadence was odd, as if he was letting down some façade of his own.

"Not my fault you took so long," the man, or rather, Ike muttered sleepily. "So, you were right about there being a newcomer. Can we please just go back to sleep now, it's too early to wake up."

"Early?", Shulk repeated. "But how can you tell?"

That condescendingly saccharine smile returned to the royal's face as he turned away from his friend and back towards Shulk. "We have charted the positions of the void outside to make a rudimentary sort of time-telling system. The white cross seems to repeat its positions on a loop that seems comparable to what feels like a 'day', so that is how we judge it. We've tried making clocks with things we've found scattered around here, but attempts have proved futile, so if a window is not available, we go by our internal clocks. Therefore," He turned back to Ike and made an attempt to pull his covers off, as Lucina had done to Pit. "Your argument is invalid because I believe it's a perfectly fine time to be awake! Besides, it would be rude to keep Shulk waiting."

"Look, kid, I know you're confused, but can't this wait until later?", requested Ike, who was resisting Marth's attempts to force him to fully awaken with admirable stubbornness.

Shulk really had no idea how to respond to that. He didn't want to wait a second longer to learn more about everything, but that was proving to be a bit improbable-looking. That made Lucina's cry of "We can take it over from here, Lord Marth!" incredibly welcome.

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_**AN- This shouldn't have taken so long to get up. Sorry about that, life's been busy lately. In other news, I think I am officially going to continue this. Does mean the other two aren't going to go on? Well, Ivy's Flower, probably, but I might continue Sweet Smash Flats as well. So, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik**_


	4. Thanks Tood

_**AN- Wow, this story again. Sorry, I never meant to quit on it, but a, I don't really enjoy writing it, and b, Lucas and Roy being cut was supposed to be a pretty major plot point. And clearly, since they are no longer cut, that point is moot and it feels like every time I try to make a point out of a character being cut, then they are no longer so. Well, then, might as well end the story on a high note...**_

* * *

_Puzzle-box Mansion_

_Chapter Four- Thanks Tood_

Snake is in a box.

THE END


	5. Unfinished Actual Chapter Four

_Puzzle-box Mansion_

_Chapter Five- Unfinished Actual Chapter Four_

Lucina pulled him out of the small room, away from Marth's odd bout of squabbling, followed by Robin and Pit. This time, he was not pulled towards the mirror, but rather towards the room in which he had awoken. The door was thrust open with a creak, revealing a room that looked just as it had a few moments ago. Out of curiosity, Shulk cast another glance towards the great window, through which he could have sworn to have seen an "outside" that looked less chaotic than what was outside of the doors. It was filled with greenery, yes, but the sky he thought he'd seen was nowhere to be seen. A high vaulted ceiling was all that was above that place, painted the same dull white as the other ceilings.

"Are you okay?", asked Lucina very suddenly, pulling his eyes from the window and back to the girl, who looked rather nervous, clamping one hand around her opposite wrist to the point that they both looked paper-white. "I mean, this is a lot to take in, and if Lord Marth was at all like he was when showing us around…"

She seemed to trail off before catching what she was saying. "I-I mean I admire Lord Marth, of course I do!", she exclaimed, now clenching her other hand in a fist. "B-but he's just a little, er, well, let's put it this way: For all his many talents, giving newcomers explanations isn't exactly one of them."

"Yeah, if it hadn't been for Captain Falcon, Lucina and I wouldn't have learned a thing that day," Robin remarked with an odd sideways grin. "So, I guess between the two of us and Pit, we could probably give you better answers than you would of gotten."

Something about how this conversation was playing out confused Shulk. Was it the fact that Lucina seemed to be flitting between acting like she respected Marth highly and finding him as infuriating as he had? Perhaps, but if he thought on it, that would make three here who couldn't settle on one persona. It might have been that "Captain Falcon" seemed like an odd nickname for Pit, perhaps only because he wasn't quite sure what a "falcon" was. Said winged boy followed up Robin's smug claim with "So, ask away, and we'll try to answer your questions as best we can."

A blank check with the potential to give him all the answers he'd been craving, and yet he had no clue where to start. Naturally, he started in the place that made him seem the least intelligent. "Er, okay, then, why do they call you 'Captain Falcon'? And what is a falcon, anyways?"

Pit burst into a rather loud fit of laughter, stopped by Robin jabbing his shoulder rather forcefully, judging by the cry of pain he let out afterwards. "Sorry, that's just a new one, that's all," he explained, wiping a tear that had been knocked loose, whether by the laughing or impact. "Er, Captain Falcon is someone else. He's been here way longer than me, or even Marth, but he didn't want to come with us to see if you'd show."

"So there are more than just the five of you?", Shulk questioned. "Er, I mean, that's sort of what I expected, but…"

* * *

_**AN- Sorry, but this chapter is just as I said: unfinished. Just found it laying around in my hard drive, and if I was going to discontinue this, I figured I ought not to leave perfectly good material unused, even if it was only about a third of a chapter. So, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik**_


End file.
